


The Dreamer's Plan - A Richavant Cinderella Tale

by Grigiocuore



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fairytale Twist, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Modern-ish Universe, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 03:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grigiocuore/pseuds/Grigiocuore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt on Tumbr: Everyone has a timer on their wrist that counts down to the moment of meeting your soulmate.</p>
<p>Pick the most classical Cinderella Story. Now imagine the Prince is a whimsical millionaire writer, Cinderella is a bittered knight, and that the Great Ball just makes things worse. How difficult could it be to get a happy end, when it's written on your wrist?<br/>Apparently a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dreamer's Plan - A Richavant Cinderella Tale

The Dreamer's Plan – A Richavant Cinderella Tale

 

The night Richard's timer stopped it was during the Ball, and he was dancing. He knew it had been at midnight o'clock, he and Gareth had calculated it when they were half-romantic-half hormonal teens. The Ball itself had been organized around that moment: Richard trusted tradition and fate, but they had messed with him enough to make him kind of wary. Every suitable single in the city, bachelors and cacciatrici, all collected in his light-bulging halls, all ready to make their move on the most prized, eccentric millionaire of several states around. Dancing with anyone, chatting with men and women, laughing and swirling and flirting with them, until the clock struck twelve and the strange magical joke of the Meeting shows him who is born to love him, who he has waited for a whole life. Happy ever after, even him, even the author.

The plan had been pure genius. Splendidly crafted. He had thought about any eventuality, any scenario, but the one where he wouldn't remember who he was with at midnight.

Thinking it after, organizing a Masquerade Ball had not been brilliant.

-Goddammit, Richard!- Gareth growled behind his chair. -I've told you it was stupid. I've told you.-

Richard just whined and plunged his head deeper in his hands. There was nothing Gare said more often than "I told you so", and with a range of disapproving tones his parents'd never reached. But it was true that after every "told you" he was also the one to pick up his sobbing pieces and put them back together, so he was forgiven.

-I thought it would have been more romantic. More charming.-

-More charming? Fuck, Richard. You didn't have to charm anyone, you just had to go around, find the goddamn soul mate and forget this crap.-

-Gosh, only you could make it sound like getting a verruca off.-

Gare growled again, and Richard didn't even have to turn to know he was clutching the drawer hard enough to crack it.

-Whatever. You really, really sure not to remember anything? If they were a man or a woman?-

-I don't know.- Richard moaned. One eye peering through fingers. -I told you. I saw midnight had passed just hours after.- They were not actually hours, but as with many other social conventions Richard had a personal vision of time. - And I've danced with a lot of people before then.-

-Dammit.- Gareth took a breath. The drawer squeaked. -Okay. Okay. Try to focus, Richard, really focus. Is there anything at all you remember? Some of those cheesy feely things of yours?-

Oh, it certainly was.

-Yes.- Richard said, slowly. - A man. He wore a green mask. He didn't say a word, but when we were dancing, all pieces fell in the exact place. He smelled of oilcloth and grass.-

-Ah fuck, that's perfect. A green mask and smelling of grass. I'm going to put an advertisement on the newspapers. Fuck, Richard, I told you so.-

-Mh, I'm sorry?-

-If you've done things like normal people for once.-

He flinched, and Gareth inwardly cursed himself. Richard Kingson bounced back well almost any kind of insults, but not that; mainly because he was deeply persuaded it was true. It was one of the many things Gareth would like to beat Richard's family for.

While his strict self said it was damn time he stopped putting on the bunny-eyes every time, Gareth found himself leaning in with a friendly grunt.

-Sorry. I didn't mean.-

-Don't worry, Gare.- He patted Gareth's hand lightly. -I know you didn't. And maaaybe it really hasn't been, uh, very very wise a decision. I'm really sorry. Better yet, it's a mess. But, it's not too late Gare-bear, right?- He gulped. -Is not like I lost the chance, right?-

-Don't even try with the puppy face again.- Gareth mumbled. -And stop with this bullshit. But we do need a plan. It's not like you could go on evening news and scream around you lost your one and only soulmate.-

He knew he had screwed up as soon as he said it. Richard's eyes twinkled. They twinkled that way only during business brainstorming, when he got a genius idea or a total disaster. Unfortunately there was no way to tell which one till the end.

Richard shot up from the desk chair, grinning wildly. -Come on, Gare. We're going.-

-Go where?-

-To do exactly what you said, Gare-bear.- 

-Oh no you don't.-

-Oh yes I do.- Richard swirled around, waltzing towards the door. When he looked back at Gareth, the grin got almost wolfish. -And bring me the blue velvet suit. I'll need to be showy.-

Oh, Hell.

*

Galavant looked down at his plate of macaroni, trying hard to block away both headache and Izzy's pissed, never-ending rant.

-What does it mean you have no idea?-

-Geez, Iz, could you turn it down a bit? I already feel like my brain had died inside my skull. Show some pity.-

-I don't give a damn about your hangover, Gal.- A manicured, latte-shaded hand slammed on the kitchen table by his elbow. -How could you- slam - have missed - slam harder -your life soulmate?-

Gal whined. -Iz, please. Dead brain.-

He was not trying to defend himself, really. It would have been a lost cause. Sneaking in the party you're hired to guard, drink half of the available cocktails and dance with a legion of masked strangers on the night of your Timer was nowhere a smart thing. It was almost profane, in truth. Spitting in gods' faces. There had been a time Gal would have been horrified, justly furious at the simple thought. Yes, it had been, he thought to the macaroni plate.

-And try to calm down. It's not such a big deal, after all.-

-It's not a big deal?- Izzy barked a laugh. -Oh, of course not. Just finding your one true love. Just finding the only one person that

-Bullshit.-

-It is not.-

-Yes it is. Goddammit, why not? It could be.- He whispered. The macaroni dripped off the spoon, slowly. -I need it to be. I couldn't believe that it had not been. That it had not been true.-

Isabella slipped on her chair, sighing. He didn't jerk back when she stroked his hair.

-I know, Gal. And what you did for Madalena has been the bravest thing I've ever seen.-

-But it has not been enough.- He swallowed. Brushed the numbers, zero zero, tattooed deep in the flesh. -This thing is the cruelest joke ever, don't you think so?-

-Or a very dysfunctional blessing.- She smiled. There were years of friendship and pain in that silence, and she let it be. The battle was over. Allies again. He knew she had won anyway.

-Now shut up and focus on not groaning too much. I wanna see the news.-

Gal grumbled something that could be an agreement and Izzy leant towards the crappy table-tv sitting on the counter. He quietly drifted away as soon as the screen buzzed. Of course they would talk about the ball. Main social event of the season, hundreds of invitations. Hosted by Richard Kingson, richest, brightest star of childhood literature, author of the Goodnight, My Friend series nevertheless. The guy Galavant was supposed to guard, to be clear. The thought earned a grunt.

He didn't even liked the man much. Too spoiled, too childish. Always whining about something. Never shared a word with. So yeah, it didn't make a lot of sense that he’d dragged him, him of all people, to dance in the middle of the hall. He had been freakin’ lucky Mr. Kingson didn't recognize him, or Gods know what kind of tantrums he would have made over "guards not guarding" and so on. He didn't even seem horribly clumsy while dancing. And he didn't even seem too ridiculous there, all wrapped in blue velvet Gal smiled, because his glass was nearly the shade of Richard's eyes.

And there Izzy's hand shot to clasp around his shoulder. -Gal.-

-Yeah, yeah, I'm taking a shower, got it.-

-It's not that. Look.-

-Izzy...-

-Shut up and look at the damn thing, Gal.-

He did. Surprisingly, the camera was set on Mr. Kingson's smiling face, with what looked like his office and a strip of bookcase in the background. It looked a bit like those help video refugees sent to newsrooms from war zones. Catching the coiffured mane of hair and the tailored suit, Gal decided it was not the case. For some reasons, Gal started to listen too.

-...so, ladies, gentlemen, I assure you I wouldn’t take advantage of Channel Five’s kindness and bother your evening without a very good reason, but I indeed have an important announcement to do. An announcement I think could involve many of you as well. The fact is, my dear friends, the Great Ball of yesterday evening was not a simple pleasant social occasion. In fact, it actually signified a, very remarkable moment of my life.- Kingson took in a breath. Probably fake. -Yesterday evening, it was my Timer night.-

Gal's lungs temporarily forgot how to function.

Kingson nodded gravely at his choking lungs. - Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Exactly at midnight of yesterday, the sixth of January, my Timer has stopped. This means that someone, someone among you, has to be my one and only soul mate. This means that someone who was at the party yesterday, and whose date came exactly at midnight, has earnt the right for my heart. Therefore, I now invite you, wherever you are, whoever you are, to come asking for your prize. I’ll wait for you tomorrow, at my residence. And...-

Izzy tuned off the tv. Slowly turned to him. Staring at his wrist, the numbers frozen at midnight. Exactly that midnight.

Gal felt like throwing up all the macaroni.

-Oh, fuck.-

*

Richard Kingson had started to write at eight, and since he’d never really stopped since he had gathered a certain experience in the matter. He had learnt how to satisfyingly bargain with his characters, to stop checking a thing at the tenth time, and he had understood something most people don’t want to get. Complications are good. Stories have to be full of knots and strange twists, because it was there all the soul pooled and if that lacks the trick just doesn’t work. Every good plot came with a certain amount of knots: the secret was all in deliberating if the goal was worth of unraveling them.

Richard smiled and straightened his back, trying his hardest to convince himself that was the case.

-Richard.-

-Gare, please.-

-Richard. You’re aware that there could be more or less five hundred people in the hall?-

-Well, yeah, I kind of got that feeling.- He said. –Don’t worry, Gare-bear. It’s aaall right. It’s all going exactly as planned.- Richard waved vaguely and flashed his trademark smile to a couple of giggling ladies under the balcony. It didn’t work at all on Gareth. –I’m the owner of one of Ireland largest fortunes, not too old and not hard to look at. It was obvious a lot of people would have take a shot. It was all in the plan.-

Gareth growled and cast an unhappy glance to the swirling, fancy-clad crowd under them.

-You really are decided with it, mh?-

-Absolutely, Gare.-

-And I’d have to knock you out to stop it, mh?-

-Absolutely, Gare.-

Gareth made a second kind of growl, the one Richard liked to label as "Acceptance Stage".

-Speed the crap up. I’m not the only one getting nervous.-

He followed Gare’s finger to the platform side lined with guards and Richard’s heart skipped several beats. Oh, he was there too. Galavant, such a name he couldn’t forget, one of the latest guards hired for the Manor. Firm gaze, large shoulders, shaped like a man. He was everything Richard wasn’t, but he liked it; he liked his boldness, the skill in the way he held the order gun. There was something exquisitely beautiful in Galavant, and for once that didn’t mean there was something missing in Richard. That day however the guy was standing stiffer than Gare, and he looked like he had just swallowed a toad. Or several toads.

Whoa, was it that bad?

–Well, let the games start.- Richard gulped. Waved a long hand to Gareth. -Gare, announce me, and keep ready for my orders.-

-You know, it’d be easier if you give them to me before, Richard.-

-But unforgettably less dramatic. Announce me.-

Gareth glared at him murderously and murderously trotted to the front of the platform, announcing Richard’s name in his usual, mess-calling fashion. He took a step to the handrail.

The whole Hall got suddenly eerily quiet. Hundreds of heads shot up to him, staring, peering. Winter rainy lights poured softly across the hall, from the brocade walls to the peach-marble stairs, on the rows of glittery suitors giggling excitedly. The right one too. Here he was, here she was, somewhere lost in the crowd, they too waiting for him to speak. Richard’s heart drummed hard against ribs. He waited for the lights to fall right on him. Breathed in.

Went with the show.

-Hello, friends. Since I have the pleasure to find you all in my house, I gather you answered my yesterday call. It’s a great satisfaction and I deeply, deeply thank you, from the very bottom of my heart, for your ready response. I love mysteries, and even more getting attention, so I'm flattered. Still.- He lifted a finger, starting to move down the peach steps. -Still today, my friends, we’re not about shining masks. Today we’re about truth. Maybe the only truth we could and should really care for.-

He kept climbing down the stairs. -I understand all of you, really, but today, I'll need just the right one. My right one. I've written many things, and many adventures, and I know that often, there is no but one occasion to seize the treasure, and that you should be ready to a lot of silly strange things to get it. So, I decided no one would get out of here until I’ll be finished.-

A sea of outrage sizzled all around the hall, bursting with gasps and exquisitely upper-class female squeaks. He could almost feel Gare’s inner cursing behind him. Richard grinned.

–No worries, ladies and gentlemen. I’d release you as soon as we’re done and with no harm done. It'd be over in no time. And while me and my team proceed to check your Timers, you could enjoy a nice buffet to your satisfaction. A win-win setting, I think.-

Richard stopped by the end of the stairs with a dainty bow, gracefully satisfied with himself. His public was sharing puzzled looks, brows creased, unsure how to react. It was all normal. He expected a bit of disappointment, some outbursts too, but they would come around it in the end. It was not such a big deal. It was the thing about being a rich whimsical artist. Now they would all calm down, grudgingly slip to the buffet, and.

And they were not doing it.

The crowd stood there silent, until a man shuffled in third row.

-This is unfair!-

Richard's head snapped up. But there was already another voice coming from the left.

-We all should have an occasion.-

-I should try.-

-Me too.-

The first row got visibly closer. He swallowed. -Ah, well, it's, it's not exactly a thing to try, friends. It's fate.-

-You said we should come here. That you wanted to engage.-

-Oh oh no, I'm pretty sure I've never said such a thing.-

-Oh yes you did.- They were closer again. He took a step back. -That's unfair. We all should try.-

-Yes, it's just.-

-Of course.- A lady in pearls growled. -You never met my nephew-

-I, err-

-My niece would love you-

-I-

-Please-

-Uh-

When the first hand clasped around Richard’s wrist, he felt mildly alarmed. Then come another clawing at his collar, a girl tugging at his jacket and someone wrapping themselves around his right leg. By the time a curly lady grabbed his tie mumbling "sweetie pie", Richard was persuaded it had all been a pretty horrible idea.

–Gareth.- He started an ugly retreat up the stairs. Was the lady foaming? –Gareth.-

His best friend flailed half-past the handrail. -Run, Richard. Run now.-

And so Richard did. Fast, three steps a time. The crowd snorted and rushed up behind him like a spring tide. A spring tide calling his name. Indecent proposals. That at some point touched his ass.

Oh dear.

Gareth pushed him off the last steps with a cat-like grasp on the collar.

-Only you, only you can-

-Yeah, get chased by a legion of raging suitors, I know.-

Gare was way past irony. -Get out of the rear door. You.- He nodded to two eyes-bulging guards. -Go with him. I’ll try to calm down those idiots and -watch out!-

A pearl-necklace flashed over Richard’s head, but Gare’s shove threw him off the firing line. And off balance. He found himself eddying arms in the air, and he would have crashed on the ground if someone didn’t promptly grab him. Richard blinked, looked up. It was Galavant’s face. He smiled a bit and was going to thank him when he picked the smell. Grass. Smell of oilcloth and grass. Richard turned to the guy’s arm. There was a tattoo on the wrist, like numbers. The numbers were all zero.

His eyes widened. Galavant followed his gaze and his face got even grayer.

-You.- Richard whispered. –You are the one.-

For a long second the whole room disappeared, lights and cries and past rushing away in a single giant heartbeat. Then his only one gave a felt “shit” and dropped Richard on his ass, dashing for the corridor. Richard’s hand clasped around his arm like a claw.

-It’s you.- He screamed. –It’s been you all the time. The man with the green mask.-

-You’re wrong.-

-I’m not. It’s you.-

The whole exchange had been performed in the loudest way possible, especially on Richard’s part. Galavant felt the silence spreading around like an ice block. They both turned slowly. The crowd was frozen midstep on the stairs, a gentleman caught a second before throwing a jewel velvet box. Even Gareth and the guards stood, danger forgotten, staring. Staring at Gal.

-Ah, don’t listen to him.- He shrieked. – I’m nobody. Really.-

-You’re-

His hand promptly slammed across Richard’s mouth.

-Ah, don’t listen to him. These billionaires, all a bit wacky, aren’t them?- Galavant squeaked out a laugh. -Go on. Stop staring. Go on with the, uh, rage thing ah ouch!- He jerked his hand back, Richard’s teeth print pulsing a bright pink around it.

-It’s you. You’re my soulmate.-

-You’ve freakin’ bitten me?-

-Yes, but-

-It's still crazy.-

Galavant took advantage of the moment of awkwardness. He shot on his feet, swirled around, and dashed down the corridor with enviable speed.

Richard sat there, watching his one true love fleeing away. And did the only logical thing to do.

-Guards.- He yelled. -Get him.-

They actually did it. A storm of black-clad guys rushed past him with a clang of boots, as Galavant dashed faster. Richard jumped on his feet.

That was probably the most awkward chase in the history of things, but Richard didn't care. The hall, the crowd, the lack of any serious plan, all vanished. He keenly kept his eye on the man as they rushed down the thorny corridors of his home, seriously, why he likes thorny corridors so much?, always ten feet ahead, always almost in sight. Servants yelped at their passage. A laundry basket fled high in commotion. They turned on the left. The kitchens. The rear room. Richard couldn't keep quiet.

-Fetch him! Fetch him!-

The guy plunged through the rear door with an impressive back shove and ran through it. They heard the emergency stair's metal steps whine under his peso. Richard left behind all of his butchy big guards and rushed out too, so fast he bumped against the railing before stopping. His men reached him, panting. -I'm sorry, sir. Think we lost him.-

Galavant's dark coat was already half-way across the parking. Richard blinked through rain. He was lost.

Hell no.

Richard clutched hard the railing, breathed, and jumped past it.

He was not totally dumb. The rear door was less than five feet high over the road and there was a bunch of house garbage directly under it, but he still managed to land in the most awkward mop. His guards shrieked in horror. His elbow connected to his ear. Something probably putrefied crawled down his jacket. He worked hard not to whimper in disgust and rolled off the bunch, scampering forward. And no, he wasn’t sure at all about what he was doing.

Galavant turned at the noise. He saw him, cursed, ran faster. He was making a beeline for a rusty blue truck sat in the middle of the parking.

-Ehy, ehy, stop. Stop right there.-

-Leave me alone.-

-I just want to talk.-

-I don't.-

Man, how fast was he going? Richard took a last leap and practically mowed him down, hanging limply from his sleeve. It was a technique he called "Delaying School". -Why don’t you understand?-

-I just don’t.- Galavant replied. -And now, get off here.-

-No.-

-Get off. Get off.-

Richard didn't let go and he backed fast, dragging him in the momentum, weaving both in a half-fight half-fall against the car side. There was a great expense of growls and shouts until Galavant managed to slip past the driver door. Richard snatched back his hand a second before the door clamped over it. He yelped. Galavant growled.

-I'm sorry.-

The engine roared to life and Richard banged on the driver window, but it was late. The truck jumped forward, turning off the parking, and it vanished in the avenue traffic in a shriek of brakes.

Richard watched him going away for the second time in less than five minutes. Under buckets of rain, breathing hard.

He clutched fists.

I’m sorry.

*

When he got back to his flat's scrawny corridor Galavant expected many things: the police coming to arrest him for having attempted at a celebrity's life, the celebrity's bodyguard waiting to beat the crap out of him, almost surely a pink slip, a complicated and nasty cocktail of the three options. What he didn't expect was said millionaire crouched by his door. Shivering and soaked to the bone.

-What the Hell are you doing here?-

Richard sniffed loudly. -Waiting. To talk.-

-How did you know where I live?-

-I- Sniffed again. -I kinda asked the staff database after you ran away. Sorry.-

Gal felt blood rushing to his head. He stomped past him to the flat door, fumbling with the keys. -You are a damn stalker. You are crazy.-

Richard awkwardly stumbled on his feet, dripping everywhere like a damn dog. -No, please. Wait a sec. You can't close me off.-

-Oh yeah I can.-

-Galavant, please.- Richard said softly. -Please. Give me a moment, just a moment, and then I'll be gone forever.-

Gal wouldn't ever know why it stopped him. It wasn't an original thing to say and he bet it wasn't true in the least as well. But still. Still there was so much need in that voice. A edge of desperation too. For the first time in those absurd two days, Gal thought that maybe Richard Kingson really needed it. Him.

Gal sighed and rested his head against the door before turning. Richard smiled up to him and the second after was swaying off his feet, so hard Gal had to support him.

-Whoa. What's that?-

-Ah, nothing.-

Gal ignored him and put a hand against his forehead without thinking. The skin was burning. Watery eyes. Red nose. -You've got a cold.-

-Mh, yeah. I suppose walking across half the city hasn't been a great solution after all.-

-Walking? From your house? Why didn't you call a taxi?-

-I thought this neighborhood was behind the center!- He whined in outrage.-I couldn't know you lived practically in the middle of wastelands.-

-Oh damn. You.- Galavant struggled to find words, with no success. Rubbed his eyes. -Why in the world did you do such a thing?-

-I think it's pretty obvious.- Richard sniffed. -Because you are my Soulmate.-

He looked up, beaming. -From the very first moment you took my hand, you had my heart. For the very first time in my life, I felt like all things clacked in place.-

That was the most terrifying thing Galavant had ever heard. He gulped loudly. -I, I don't understand. You're absurdly rich. You could pick up anyone.-

-But that's a completely different thing.- Richard protested. -I want the one that is made for me. I want the one I'm specifically written for. Everyone can find their own, everyone have a chance to, to the best love story of life. Somewhere some author gave us this amazing opportunity, this fairytale trick. Who I am to say no to it?-

It was so simple. Gal backed a little. Madalena, Madalena my dear, please please.

-Listen, I. I'm flattered, really. But, it couldn't work.-

-Why?- The guy's eyes, very blue, very true, widened a bit. -Is it, because I'm a man?-

-No.-

-Because I'm like this?-

-No.-Gal replied weakly. -You are. Pretty all right, really.-

-So it-

-Dammit.- He growled. Sighed. -It's not you. It's me. I've, already loved to no end. I've already loved like you should love just one time in life. Nothing will ever been like that. I won't ever feel like this again. Sorry. Really, sorry, but, I can't.-

Gal's hands, that at some mysterious moment had dropped around Richard's arms, fell down, but he didn't have the courage to look up in his face. He just saw shoulders hunching, lips clasping together, like he was wrinkling smaller in that large black coat. Gal was sure he was going to break in a million pieces.

It didn't happen. Richard took two deep breaths and a step back. He talked softly.

-Dance with me.-

Gal blinked. -Sorry?-

-Dance with me like yesterday night. Just a bit. Dance with me, and if you tell me it doesn't mean anything, I'll never bother you again.-

-This is so ridiculous.-

-It's absolutely not the dumbest thing I've ever done.- Richard replied. He stretched a hand towards Gal. -Please, mister. Dance with me.-

Galavant sighed. Looked at the damp proud man asking him to dance in the middle of a suburb block corridor. Why not, Madalena. What could happen, what could be. He took the hand. Put the other one on his hip, pushing gently, closer.

-All right. Let's do this thing.-

They began. They had no music and the corridor was narrow, but Richard was a great dancer and Gal too. They found a rhythm, fell in the right steps. Twirl, twirl, step. It was easy and funny too. It was funny how Richard was exactly of the right height to look up to him and follow his feet, and how Gal's fingers were of the exact size to hold on his waist, and that despite being drenched to no end his skin seeped warmth through clothes. Twirl, twirl, step. And it was even funnier that when they nearly hit Mrs. Nelson's umbrella stand Richard laughed and Gal felt himself laughing too, and it was funny, funny to the point it was breaking his heart, that holding him felt so incredibly right and that he suddenly couldn't think about any other way to feel so happy in ten thousand years and one thousand of galaxies.

Galavant swept Richard off his feet, swirling him around in a last twirl, and put him down gently as they came to a stop in front of the door. Gal wasn't breathing. Madalena, Madalena my love. It's true, Madalena, is all true. The Gods' trick. Our dysfunctional blessing. Richard didn't say anything, leaning in to recover, wobbly on feet.

-So?-

Gal swallowed. He bent to kiss Richard's forehead. Said farewell to Madalena.

-Get in. You need to change, or you'll get pneumonia.-

-So it worked?-

He nodded.

-Fantastic.- Richard sighed.-This makes everything easier. Even if I must confess sneaking in out of pity was the second option.-

-You mean you got a cold on purpose?-

-Maybe.-

-You're such a devious man.-

Richard reached out with a grin. -Never underestimate the dreamer, Mr. Galavant.-


End file.
